


shivering gold

by onekingdomonce



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: M/M, Pet Disguise, Porn With Plot, Post-Kings Rising, plot is a loose term
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 08:35:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15481836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekingdomonce/pseuds/onekingdomonce
Summary: “So,” Damen said, adjusting his shoulders against the post. “This was premeditated.”“Of course it was,” Laurent said.“You said we would use our regular disguises,” Damen said.“No,” Laurent countered, just as he finished fixing the earring into place. The sapphires dangled, blue gems that glinted in the moonlight and winked at Damen as they swung above his shoulder, barely hidden between strands of golden hair. “I said we would use disguises. I don’t recall specifying.”





	shivering gold

**Author's Note:**

> i was reading the inn scene at nesson from prince's gambit, and then i was thinking of them up to these shenanigans post canon, and then this happened.  
> title is shivering gold by tove lo for absolutely no valid reason.

“So,” Damen said, adjusting his shoulders against the post. “This was premeditated.”

“Of course it was,” Laurent said.

“You said we would use our regular disguises,” Damen said.

“No,” Laurent countered, just as he finished fixing the earring into place. The sapphires dangled, blue gems that glinted in the moonlight and winked at Damen as they swung above his shoulder, barely hidden between strands of golden hair. “I said we would use disguises. I don’t recall specifying.”

Damen breathed in the musky scents of autumn as his lips pressed together, looking up at the browning leaves. He heard the gravel crunch between beneath people’s boots, whistles ringing out in his ear.

“Damen,” Laurent said. He touched his chest. 

Damen looked to the entrance of the inn, at the two women who walked out hand in hand. It had been years, and they had done this before, but Laurent playing pet in Damen’s lap was still something he didn’t quite know how to feel about.

“Come,” Laurent said. “It will be fun.”

Damen glanced at him, looking at each other in private silence before he stepped towards him. How could he say no, when Laurent was grinning at him like that?

 

It was something they did every so often, a tradition they liked to keep up. Whether they wanted to meet someone under a guise or keep an eye on a certain situation they heard speculations circulating about, or even take advantage of a rare opportunity where they could steal a little time together. It had become like a private joke between them, a solution to a predicament that required stealth and secrecy. Years ago, an unfortunate situation had led to even more unfortunate nicknames, but it had provided them with a way to navigate a variety of different circumstances without getting too many people involved, sometimes no one else at all. 

However, it was quite different this time. Originally unbeknownst to Damen, they would not be Charls the cloth merchant and Lamen, his eager and capable assistant. They were to be a well off nobleman and his young, striking pet.

“Am I to know our names?” Damen asked as he pushed the door open, the old wood creaking as they stepped inside. They had never been in this part of Ladehors before, the inn entirely new to them. Looking around presented Damen with a low ceiling, a smatter of multi-sized benches, his impression shifting hazily from the fire going at the side of the room. It was humbly small, though the atmosphere was cozy enough. 

“Unimportant,” Laurent said, just as a lanky man approached them, his hair long and tied back from his face.

“Welcome, my lord.” His eyes had naturally gone to Laurent first, a fraction of a second passing before he turned them to Damen. “Will you just be dining, or do you require accommodations as well?” 

“The last room at the tops of the stairs,” Laurent said. “With the unbarred window and private bath. We don’t want company.”

The innkeeper looked to Damen, who said nothing.

“That’s all for now,” Laurent said.

When the man left them alone, Damen turned to him. “Have you been here before?”

“Yes,” Laurent said. He directed his gaze to one of the tables by the hearth. “Come, my lord.” 

Damen sat first, and was unsurprised when Laurent took the spot beside him, straddling the bench so he was facing Damen’s side. He said nothing, simply watching as Damen continued to look around, back to the revolving doors the innkeeper had walked through.

“Relax,” Laurent said, speaking low so no one would hear him. “I’ve stayed here multiple times with my guard, I’ve never seen that man.”

The possibilities of the innkeeper recognizing Laurent wasn’t Damen’s only concern, nor was it the only reason for the constant roaming of his eyes. The inn wasn’t too crowded, only a handful of tables occupied, though that did nothing to change the fact that nearly every pair of eyes in the room were fixed on Laurent.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Damen asked.

Laurent slid forward a little, laying his forearm down the surface of the table so his nails were grazing Damen’s sleeve. “What?”

“Portraying yourself as such.”

If Laurent was considering the question, he didn’t show it. “No.”

“You know what they’re all thinking.” 

The jewels hanging down Laurent’s ear swayed as he tilted his head, tinkling against each other. “If they think you’re fucking me,” he said. “They’re not wrong.”

Damen’s neck felt hot. “That’s not what I meant.”

Laurent’s laughter was a short breath, a slight shifting of his legs so they were even closer.

“I know who we are,” he said. His hand was on Damen’s arm, their knees touching. “Outside opinions are irrelevant.” 

Damen was beginning to see the appeal of the smaller surroundings, unlike when they had initially entered. The warmth of the fire could be enjoyed from every vantage, and Damen felt like he could see the wavering of the fire in the blue of Laurent’s eyes, the lowest part of the flames reflecting back to him. His lashes were golden candlelight, Damen’s pulse thudding against his fingertips.

The innkeeper found them like that, their heads bent low together as platters of meats and flatbreads were placed before them, a large spread being brought to them without having to be asked. It was far more than either of them would be able to eat, and would surely cost more than anything anyone else was going to be charged.

A pitcher of wine was placed in front of them, two shallow cups put in front of Laurent. They went ignored by him, his second hand under the table.

“My lord?”

“That will be all,” Damen said. Laurent’s fingers were nimble, tracing the crease of fabric on the side of Damen’s thigh. Damen heard footsteps, a faraway sound that took up not even a fraction of his attention as the space between them dispensed. 

The smell of spiced meats wafted around them, the platter hot by Damen’s hand, only a few inches off. A door shut somewhere, a futile reminder that they weren’t alone.

Damen remembered the first time he had seen the earring, on Laurent. He had seen in since, but never fixed to Laurent’s ear as it was now, sapphire lively against his creamy skin, bringing out a new hue in his eyes. The sight of it almost emphasized the mischief that Laurent had in him, the licentious playfulness that Damen had slowly discovered about him, over the years of getting to know one another. 

Laurent was his own man, no one’s to claim, no certain article of clothing or piece of jewelry doing anything to change that fact in Damen’s mind. However, Damen could still feel the way the performance was working on him, just as it had the first time with Laurent practically on his lap at a dark inn in Nesson, whispering in his ear and eating from his hand. The curve of his lips, the alluring, knowing look in his gaze as their ankles crossed under the bench was like the impact of alcohol running through his bloodstream, inhibitions lowering further with each sip.

“There are people around,” Damen said. Laurent ran his leg up Damen’s calf, slowly. If people couldn’t see the movement under the table, they would be able to see Damen’s reaction to it. “Watching.” 

For all of Laurent dramatis and his love to shock, he wasn’t always so public with his touches, the two of them keeping their intimacy as a personal matter. It was Damen’s own preference as well, preferring to have it be something that was just theirs, out of the public eye. The caress of his hands, the possessive hold of his eye was something Damen would rarely encourage around others, yet he was helpless. Perhaps it was as Laurent had told him, once. _Verisimilitude._

“I know,” Laurent said. Their chests touched, the murmur of Laurent’s voice like a blanket, the sensation of his lips brushing against his ear like droplets of water running down his spine, chills spreading against his arm. 

When Damen kept his hands where they were, Lauren took it upon himself to lift his head, subtly, just exposing the line of his neck in a way that could have been a thoughtless stretch, but was not.

“They all know I’m yours,” Laurent said. His lips, pink like bright sea coral, were close enough to taste.

“Your heart is mine,” Damen told him, feeling Laurent’s palm curve against his knee. “Your body is your own.”

“They all think you’re my master,” Laurent continued, voice artfully low. “You can do whatever you like.”

“I know,” Damen said, and so he tucked a strand of hair behind Laurent’s ear, the ear not adorned in jewels, and brushed his lips against Laurent’s cheek.

The skin warmed beneath his mouth, a lovely pink shade spreading across the tops as Damen pulled away, though his eyes were still cool.

“That doesn’t quite go with the haughty indifference you’re trying to maintain,” Damen mused. The spot below Laurent’s chin was soft against his knuckle.

Laurent pressed against Damen’s shoulder with a push, another playful aspect of his personality that Damen was fortunate enough to know. Damen smiled, charmed, and the shared look between them was fleeting before Laurent brought himself back into character. 

He brought himself even closer somehow, just short of throwing a leg over Damen’s lap as his nose grazed Damen’s clavicle. He made a low, probing sound, and Damen thought he could resent himself later for how it worked on him, how easily Laurent knew it would work on him.

The line of Laurent’s back was solid under Damen’s hand, strong, the fabric of his shirt smooth as Damen ran a palm up, gentling at his nape. Laurent made another pleased sound, and the deliberateness of it went straight through Damen’s body, the deepest part of his stomach furling tightly with desire.

Damen lifted his eyes from the curve of Laurent’s shoulder. He had been aware of all the attention on them from the moment they had walked in, but the knowledge did nothing to curtail the distaste he felt when he saw the way the men were looking at them, at Laurent. Reaction struck hot inside him, maneuvering his instincts. He wasn’t above winding a possessive arm around Laurent’s waist, his own eyes boring into each patron until they removed their arrogant gazes. 

He felt Laurent’s awareness of his reaction, his smile curving against Damen’s neck as he lifted his head just so, gems sweeping Damen’s shoulder. “Relax, my lion,” he murmured, leaning back the rest of the way, implementing the smallest amount of space between them. He had a certain glint in his eye, something Damen had grown to recognize as satisfaction. 

Laurent’s fingers were trailing the cup beside him, circulating the rim as he glanced around the room as well. The attention he gave each person was sparing, bored, a cat that lounged on your doorstep and barely lifted its head when you tried to walk around it.

“I would say the object of everyone’s jealousy is rather divided,” Laurent said, conversationally. “Wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t care about that,” Damen said.

“Of course not,” Laurent said. He turned to the large spread set out on their table, ignoring the cutlery that had been provided with linen napkins. “Are you hungry?”

They had eaten shortly before leaving, not long enough that Damen felt famished but enough that he could eat. “Yes.”

Damen expected him to go for the platter of steaming breads, perhaps for nostalgic sake, but it was instead the platter of fruits that he turned his attention to. Slices of ripe plums, purple on the outside with bright red flesh. Sour green apples drizzled in honey, cashews scattered throughout every different delicacy, shavings of almond sprinkled on top.

Damen watched as he reached for a vine of fresh green grapes, each individual one firm and plump with juice, Laurent’s eyes meeting Damen’s as he pinched one off the stem.

“I thought I was meant to feed you,” Damen said, as Laurent held the grape by his mouth.

“Do I seem like the type of pet that cares about rules?”

Damen observed the way he sat with his legs spread on either side of the bench, only then noticing that the top lace on his collar was undone, trialing down his chest against the crossing fabric. That morning, he had woken with his back to Damen’s chest, his toes curling against Damen’s ankles as he stretched in the morning light before turning over in bed, burrowing into Damen’s body with a sleepy, content sound. Now, he sat straight-backed and expectant, his hand hovering like he was dangling a treat. One brow quirked as he waited.

“No,” Damen said. “You don’t seem like anyone else.”

It was odd for Damen at first. He was conscious of the way the routine might seem to others, what they would think of their dynamics when hey saw one man feeding the other, the fact of them being equals unbeknownst to anyone that might look their way. Instead he thought of all the times they dined alone in their chambers, feeding each other from their spoon or fingers in the sun soaked dawn or dusk evenings.

Laurent smiled when he parted his lips, slipping the grape in enough that Damen felt the intrusion in his mouth, his fingers sliding out from between his lips as he pulled away gradually. Their eyes held as he began to withdraw, and Damen hardly allowed himself to swallow before he wrapped his fingers around Laurent’s neck, wanting him to taste the juice straight from his tongue.

He felt Laurent’s lips part with a sound of surprise, providing Damen with the opportunity to slide his tongue in, more brazen than he ever would in the company of others. Kissing Laurent was a privilege, one that only Damen was able to experience, and he found that he didn’t have the strength to stop himself from sliding a hand into his hair, tilting his head back as their slips spread apart.

“In public?” Laurent said, not moving away from the brush of Damen’s lips. “Who am I here with?” 

“No names,” Damen said, cupping the side of Laurent’s face in his hand as he traced his bottom lip with his thumb, humming deep in his throat at the feel of Laurent’s tongue against his skin. “No reservations.”

“Don’t give me any ideas,” Laurent replied, taking Damen’s wrist and pulling his hand away. “I’ll make you take those words back.”

Damen looked at the grip Laurent had on him, elegantly long fingers around the part of his sleeve that was hiding his golden cuff. “Presumptuous for a pet.”

“I’m expensive,” Laurent said, setting Damen’s hand down on his own thigh. “Kiss me again.”

A man passed by their table. Damen ignored him. “Don’t you have to earn it?”

“I will,’ Laurent said. “Later.”

Damen’s eyelids felt heavy. His imagination was having no trouble conjuring what the end of the night might entail, the expression on Laurent’s face saying he could tell. Damen looped one Laurent’s laces around his finger, tugging. “Come here, then.”

The kiss was slow, lazy, a few soft presses of lips that resembled their early morning kisses when the sheets were still warm, their bodies too fitted together for them to entertain the idea of leaving each other’s arms. Laurent’s grip around Damen’s arm was just as possessive as Damen’s had been. His lips were pliant, his sweet sounds low enough that they were only for Damen’s ears, yet the reminder that they were around other people, unwelcome and prying, was enough to have Damen pulling away.

Laurent’s lips were wet, slightly parted, his eyes dark pools of heat like his earing had been torn off and tossed into the fire, melting into liquefied twilight. Damen turned to face forward, shifting his body around carefully as he reached forward for a plate. “Eat with me.” 

It was a little different, like this. Damen was used to the two of them facing each other, sharing conversation and speculations about the day, no notion of deference in their mind. Now, Laurent was holding himself considerably back (intimacy notwithstanding), not offering much in the way of conversation as he picked through the contents on the table, eyeing what was clearly the best pick of the kitchen with an arrogance that was so unlike the appreciative eye he always gave to every meal that had been placed before him, that only his personal knowledge of Laurent reminded him that it was a farce. 

While Damen was perfectly capable of picking food for himself, it was Laurent that sorted his plate for him, all the different flavors that he knew he would like. He gave Damen the best pick of everything – save a few of his own secret delights – and topped his goblet off each time the liquid neared the end. 

It was all senseless. They had initially departed for the inn under the guise of observing the townsfolk, hearing the gossip and seeing how their people were fairing without the added knowledge of being around their kings. It was a method they occasionally practiced, thought it was clear by then that Laurent was here for some other reason, same kind of a game that Damen knew had no real endpoint, only the journey itself. He remembered his words, earlier in the evening. _It will be fun._

Still, Laurent played his part and played it well. He was the picture of the perfect pet: exquisite, exclusive, expensive. All one needed to do was look his way to see why anyone would empty their pockets for him. Damen still felt that at times, tackling the notion every day that he could scourge the entire earth for all the finest jewels, all the most expensive offerings, and it would still not be even close to what a moment in Laurent’s company was worth. Not that any of those things were important to Laurent, past a practical sense. 

“So,” Damen said, reaching across the table so he could spear a slice of roasted beef with his fork. “Have you accomplished whatever it was you were setting out to do?”

Laurent rolled his eyes, and it was unclear if it was part of the façade or not. He took the fork from Damen’s hand, picking the morsel off. “Don’t you know by now that not everything has a purpose?”

Damen watched him lick the juice off the ends of his fingers, flecks of spices likely coating his tongue as he wiped the rest off on a napkin. “This seems rather pointless then.”

“Why is that?”

“Well,” Damen tore a strip of chicken breast between his fingers, rubbing it around the glazed sauce on his plate before lifting it to Laurent’s mouth. “We could be at the palace, doing something practical.”

Laurent accepted it without question, opening his mouth for Damen and taking the bite straight from his fingers. There was nothing overly erotic about it this time, just the simple pleasure of feeding his lover because they wanted to, and that was nice in another way. Damen wiped the bit of sauce that had dabbed the side of Laurent’s mouth off with his thumb, bridging it to his own lips before offering Laurent another bite. 

Laurent took a drink of water after swallowing, setting his cup down between them. He was still sitting with his thighs on either side of the wooden bench. “The palace is in our Kyros’ hands,” he said. “And we don’t have to be ourselves, here. We can act without thought.”

“We have utilized that ability before,” Damen reminded him. “Under less ribald pretenses.”

Laurent’s returning stare was impish. “That’s a different kind of fun.”

The fire crackled as Damen regarded him. He remembered the way the earring had changed his perception of Laurent, once, before he knew all that lay beneath unmatched eyes and high cheekbones. Then, the singular piece of jewelry had framed his face in a different light, altering the way Damen viewed the man he faced so that he was met with someone unpredictably roguish, sly and seductive. 

And Laurent _was_ those things when he wanted to be, but he was also more, in ways that Damen hadn’t known then. He was selfless, caring, at times shyly charismatic in ways that made Damen feel profoundly lucky. He was a collection of all those things now, unbeknownst to everyone looking at them with their own preconceived notions about him. 

Again, Damen let his eyes glaze over the different tables around them. He saw two men sitting opposite each other, a pitcher of spirits in the center. A few women sat at another, a third table holding a group of people of mixed ages, and it was unclear who was with who, most hands wandering on more person than one. All around the room were different patrons, some sitting flush as lovers, some with a dethatched air that could have been a part of the game. More than one pair of eyes looked away when met with Damen’s.

“It’s a little thrilling, isn’t it?” Laurent said.

Thrilling wasn’t the word Damen would use, but it was igniting in a way, a response that he wasn’t wholly able to quell. He had not yet entirely gotten used to what it was like to have Laurent by his side, a swell of pride over the fact that Laurent could be with anyone and still chose him. He found that it was still the same, now, in a darkened room with only flames to illuminate them, a host of strangers watching them like Damen had an entire kingdom in his hands. He did.

Still, he felt the need to shift his focus, a part of him still struggling with the positions they had put themselves into, the way they had presented themselves. He thought, briefly, of what it would be like if they had tried this with reversed roles, and immediately did away with the thought.

Laurent grinned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Damen said.

Laurent touched his cheek, and Damen could feel that he was hot against his fingers. He pulled away when Damen said nothing, though there was still a whisper of amusement on his face.

“We can play cards,” Damen said, remembering Laurent’s penchant for games. “If you’re done eating.”

Laurent propped his chin on his palm, tapping against his cheek. “Wouldn’t it be wiser for me to swindle someone else out of their coin?’

“We could always play an honest game,” Damen supplied.

“Play fair with Nikandros,” Laurent said, turning his body so he could inspect his options. As his blue gaze surveyed the room he murmured, “we’re going to have a conversation.”

Not seeing any probable success in an argument, Damen returned his attention to the remaining food in front of him, plucking an olive off a pick with his teeth when Laurent touched his elbow to Damen’s. “There. Beckon him over.”

Damen looked without turning, seeing a straight-backed man with an expensive looking jacket, no companion in sight. “Why me?”

Laurent looked at him. “I can if you like,” he said. “He’ll just have very certain expectations if I do.”

It had only taken a pointed look and a lift of his fingers for his attention to be caught, and he felt Laurent lean into him when the man began to approach them, hair tickling his cheek. Into his ear he said, “try and act like less of a king.”

The man’s name was Jehan, a highborn aristocrat from Barbin who was there only for the night, traveling through Vere alone. He was a good looking man likely nearing his forties, jovial enough that he had gratefully taken a seat with a lord he didn’t know and his zealous pet, fingers wrapped around his master’s arm like he was an extension of him. Jehan didn’t blink at their seating arrangement, nor did he glance at Laurent longer than was necessary in a typical greeting. He was on his way to Delpha, he told them.

“First time?” Damen asked.

“No,” he said. “But I have not been back since it has become the new capital of the kingdoms.” 

He could feel Laurent’s interest stir at the words, an animal’s tail beginning to wag as it came out of a deep nap. Damen had the sudden, vague idea that he should be on alert for something. 

“Business?” Damen asked. “Or pleasure.”

Jehan’s head tilted to the side. “The latter, I suppose. I’m going in hopes of joining the festival next week.”

“Festival?” Laurent asked. 

Damen looked around the room, weighing the possibility of signaling for more wine.

“Yes,” Jehan nodded. “To celebrate the anniversary of the unity of Vere and Akielos.”

”Ah,” Laurent said, flatly. “We’re not too involved in politics, if I’m being honest.” He placed a hand on Damen’s thigh to punctuate his point, which didn’t make much sense to Damen. It was under the table, Jehan wouldn’t be able to see Laurent touching him.

“No?” Jehan asked, sipping from the drink Damen had offered him when he’d sat. “I would have thought differently, given-“ he paused, stopped.

“Go on,” Damen prompted. He felt Laurent’s hand twitch, and reminded himself that it would be rude to look away and see what Laurent wanted.

“I only meant,” Jehan motioned between them. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I only assumed, given your nationalities…”

“Ah,” Laurent repeated, significantly different this time. He leaned across the table towards Jehan, and the change in his stance acted to shift his hand back so it moved farther up his thigh. Damen looked down, blinking. 

“Tell me,” Laurent said. “As another Veretian, what do _you_ think of King Damianos?”

Damen covered Laurent’s hand with his. He knew what Laurent was up to, by then, and he wanted Laurent to know that his teasing games would not work on him then, like they had in the past. He was used to Laurent’s suggestive innuendos, just like he knew that they always ended in jest. He kept the touch light, simply placed his palm on top of Laurent’s knuckles. Laurent separated his fingers enough so that Damen’s fit between them, and that was nice.

“I couldn’t say,” Jehan said. He rolled his sleeves up to reveal a faint scar, winding up his left arm. “I’ve never seen either of our kings, but I approve of all the new edicts, thus far. The empire seems to be flourishing under the new reign.”

Laurent hummed solicitously, a sound that Damen was accustomed to hearing and had no interest in hearing then, in the company of others. But Laurent was still, and he felt it safe to lift his arms and brace them on the table, leaning his weight forward. He could feel the direction the conversation was taking, and that seemed to require more of his attention.

“I assume you’ve heard the stories of his virility,” Laurent said. 

“What?” Jehan said. Damen sighed. 

“King Damianos,” Laurent clarified helpfully.

“I,” Jehan said. “Suppose, but-“

“They seem a bit exaggerated,” Laurent said. “Don’t you think?”

Damen turned to Laurent. “Do they.”

Laurent removed his hand. “You don’t think?” he asked.

Before placing it flat between Damen’s legs.

Damen started, not expecting the direct touch of contact, nor the way Laurent’s fingers spread so he was properly palming him. Jehan looked at him with a twist of his brow, and Laurent lifted his own as he gazed at Damen. 

He looked down beneath the table, changing his expression to one of confusion. “Did you feel a rat?” he asked, just as he pushed the heel of his hand down.

Aware that he was unable to make any moves to grip Laurent’s hand without piquing Jehan’s interest further, Damen was left with nothing to do but grasp the edge of the table as subtly as possible, saying nothing.

“I couldn’t quite say,” Jehan said, when neither of them spoke further. It took Damen a few seconds to realize what he was referring to, for his mind to catch up with anything else. 

Laurent’s hand was moving. His hand wouldn’t stop moving, and the occasional pop of the flames was worsening the situation somehow, the familiar sound and glow they offered the room altering the way the situation felt. Laurent’s form was stoic, unwaveringly forward, his finger tracing the outline of Damen’s cock as he returned Jehan’s look like they were discussing trade routes.

Laurent hummed again, nodding thoughtfully. He turned to Damen. “What do you think?”

Damen attempted to close his thighs, to move his hips away and down the bench. Laurent wound a leg around Damen’s ankle, keeping him there.

“Don’t be shy,” Laurent said.

“I think,” Damen said, as Laurent’s hand moved further back, tightening. Damen’s toes curled in his boots, the wood of the table rough under his fingers. “That it is not our business.”

“The kingdom seems to speak like it is,” Jehan observed.

Laurent smiled. It was slow, his teeth eventually showing, going crooked at the side when he felt what Damen was frustratingly, inevitably feeling.

“They do,” Laurent said, just as his finger slipped beneath a single lace.

A crash sounded out. Jehan’s jerk was abrupt, his body swiveling so he could check the commotion, a blessed interruption that had Damen leaning in, seeing Laurent’s grin widen.

“We could have just gone upstairs,” Damen said, speaking quietly. “If this was what you wanted.”

“We will,” Laurent said. ”When I’m ready.”

“If you’ll excuse us,” Damen said, loudly. Jehan turned back to them with a lost look, a little surprised, and Damen resisted the urge to grit his teeth and repeat himself. If he was himself and not a pawn, all he would have to do was say the single world, _leave_ , and they would be alone.

It took Jehan a few seconds to respond, but Laurent’s hand had not strayed, so it was a few seconds too long. After he had finally bid them goodnight and made back for his table, Laurent looked up at him and said, “Well, that was rude.”

All limits were eventually reached. Damen grabbed his hand, curling his fingers around the bones in his wrist as he brought his lips to Laurent’s ear, close enough that each individual syllable and breath would be felt. “I’m going to take you apart tonight.”

Laurent appeared unmoved by the statement, shoulders straight and chin raised. Damen waited, thumb tracing the vein that ran along delicate skin on his wrist, and it was when he touched the center of Laurent’s palm when he turned his head, holding Damen’s gaze as he murmured, “We’ll see.’

Damen had no problem with Laurent’s games. He had grown to like them, even. But after a full night of his fluttering lashes and covert looks and touches, Damen felt crazed with a hot, simmering impatience that felt seconds away from boiling over, like he would crumble if they didn’t have each other soon.

Damen was abrupt in standing, the grip he had around Laurent pulling him up with him. No one seemed at all surprised to see them removing their legs from the bench, though too many heads followed their direction as they made for the stairs for Damen’s liking.

The steps were wide stone, the same curves and indentations as the wall that patrons would need to cling to so as not to fall over the open side. Damen led the way, the clasp he still had on Laurent’s hand tightening the further they went away from everyone else, the closer they went to a place where they could be themselves. 

He remembered Laurent’s words, _last room at the end of the stairs_ , and led them down the long and narrow hallway that was illuminated in torchlight, shapes and figures dancing around them in shadows as Damen pushed the thick door open. 

The bedchamber hardly resembled that of the main room downstairs, as if they had stepped into a new world, hand crafted with a specific evening in mind. The bed was quite Veretian in it’s swathing curtains, rich silk falling around the mattress in folds like the petals of a blooming rose. Someone had been there to light the fire, to arrange the sitting table with more platters of fruit and pitchers in the event that their meal had not sufficed. The windows were unbarred as Laurent had said which was more like a typical Akielon inn, though the painted glass and vanilla scent in the air more than made up for it, the fragrance curling out from the candles lining the walls.

Laurent was facing him. Heady, unpredictable Laurent, his eyes alight as he took a step back and said, “how do you want me?”

Damen followed him. For every step that Laurent took Damen matched him, until they standing against the wall with Laurent’s back pressed to stone, one of Damen’s hands by his head. Brown eyes held blue as Damen tucked his hair behind his ear, traced his earlobe with his fingers, and removed the sapphire earring so it fell to the carpet with a muffled sound. 

Laurent looked down at the fallen gems, and Damen didn’t wait for him to lift his head back as he took Laurent’s face in his hands and kissed him, delivering the kiss that he had been thinking about downstairs amidst prying eyes and jealously thick like molasses, slow and open in a way that he never would around others, not wanting anyone else to get the merit of seeing Laurent soften sweetly in his arms.

And he did, his bravado and sass from the evening slipping away as he melted into the kiss, responding in a way that felt like a new discovery each time. He allowed his body to be pressed into the plaster, their thighs fitting together as their tongues met. Laurent’s hands were everywhere, moving from Damen’s chest to shoulders as he pulled him in, his touch quicksilver as the kiss deepened to his own bidding.

The room was more than someone needed for a brief say during a journey, lavish and luxurious unless you were with someone else, a lover you wished to share a night with. Damen thought of Laurent here, alone, spending a night without Damen in an over opulent bed as Damen waited for him in their own bed, wondering if he was doing the same.

He ran his nose up Laurent’s collarbone as he tipped his head back, feeling the way the sensitive skin vibrated under the sweep of his mouth as his hand fit around his hip. He kissed Laurent’s bottom lip, took the top between his own, their breathes hot and lingering as they kissed between strands of fallen hair, neither of them bothering to brush it away.

“Are you all talk and no action?” Laurent asked him, grazing the side of Damen’s mouth with his thumb. Damen parted his lips for him, his mind already on the salted taste of Laurent’s sweat tinged skin, the blooming flush and the arch into his mouth as his jacket came undone for him, meting the earring at their feet.

Laurent worked the outer laces of Damen’s jacket for him, smooth and practiced from the many nights he indulged Damen in undressing him. As he pulled at each loop and uncrossed the ties through the eyelets, Damen took it upon himself to kiss his chin, his forehead, the apples of his cheeks and the skin of his lowered eyelids. Laurent was undeterred throughout it all, though his breathing changed in Damen’s ear as he found the tender spot on the side of his neck. 

Laurent didn’t stop when his jacket came off, immediately taking hold of Damen’s undershirt and tugging it up as Damen raised his arms for him, allowing Laurent to tug it off and discard it on the side. Their eyes met, and Damen held his gaze as he took Laurent’s hands in his own and placed them on his body.

The room was hot, the fire feeling like it was caressing them as Laurent touched him as he wished, taking the time to run his hands over Damen’s skin like a mark was being made, streaks left behind from the pads of his fingers as he brought them up Damen’s chest, around his arms, brushing through fine hairs before he traced the rigid lines of his abdomen in a tantalizing way that made Damen’s stomach coil.

Already stirred from earlier, it didn’t take much more to rouse Damen than the press of Laurent’s mouth and the way he touched him now, revenant, like rememorizing something you thought you had lost.

Their shoes came off, Damen only breaking away long enough to retrieve one of the vials of oil that were lining the mantel beside them before he stepped back into Laurent’s space, crowding him again. Laurent’s mouth fit against his perfectly, unhesitatingly, making the smallest sound into Damen’s mouth as he slipped a hand beneath Laurent’s shirt.

“Remove this for me,” Damen murmured against his lips, nipping at the bottom before withdrawing himself, just enough. He kissed an unhurried line up his shoulder blade, beside his jaw, smoothing his hand along his hipbone in encouragement as Laurent pulled the final laces apart, reaching behind himself and tugging it off.

Laurent’s hands were on Damen’s sides, holding him against him as Damen rolled his hips, slowly, a rhythmic back and forth as he mouthed at Laurent’s skin. He thought of Laurent downstairs, how much he had wanted to take him there and to claim, to be claimed. This was theirs, something no one else would ever have or understand. The way Laurent’s eyelids lowered as they pressed together. The small, ambiguous sounds he made as Damen rocked them against the wall. The way Laurent’s clean, unblemished skin responded to his lips, to the press of his fingers.

“We have a-“ Laurent’s head lolled a little to the side. “A perfectly good bed right there.”

“We have an entire night,” Damen said. His hand moved down, and he felt frantic with need and the sweet promise of pleasure as he palmed between Laurent’s thighs, felt the hard press and the soft sigh that left Laurent’s lips as he exhaled, eyes closing as Damen rubbed him. He arched into it beautifully, and it was all Damen had in him not to drop to his knees.

Damen’s pants came off first, unlooping the few ties that were holding them up, uncomfortably tight against him. He felt as if the fire crackled against his bare back as Laurent drank in the sight of him, the sound of his breathes coming a little uneven as he undid his own trousers, pushing them down his thighs with his eyes raised to Damen’s. 

Damen looked his fill, fighting hard against all of his natural instincts, all of his most primal thoughts that begged him to carry Laurent to the bed and take him with no preface. It was with Laurent that he learned the value of restraint, the advantages of delayed gratification, but he felt that the two of them had waited enough, that they had been denied each other enough. 

When Damen kissed him, it was with everything that he had wanted to give him before but couldn’t, everything he wanted to spend the rest of his life giving him. His hands glided down his sides as their lips moved together, and the hold Laurent had on his shoulders turned to a grasp as Damen palmed at his backside, changing his grip and lifting him up.

Laurent’s lips slid apart from his with a hitched sound, fingers linking as he wound his arms around Damen’s neck. His legs grappled, his thighs spreading apart so he could wrap them around Damen’s waist, the curve of his ankle pressing into Damen’s tailbone. 

“You-“ Laurent said, unable to finish his sentence as Damen leaned forward and took his mouth again.

Damen wanted it like this, in a small, inhabited inn with Laurent in his arms, clinging to Damen as he fucked him against the wall. He became sloppy with it, ungainly in his desperate yearning, fingers moving inwards so he could spread Laurent’s cheeks apart and feel that first tight, hot touch. 

Damen froze. The flashes of light flickering against the walls surrounding them seemed to still, Damen’s pulse pounding out a new rhythm that started and ended with Laurent, that beat just for Laurent.

He lifted his gaze, and Laurent’s eyes were unmoving from his, his cock flushed and hard between their bodies. Damen’s lip was tight between his teeth, and felt the way Laurent shuddered against him as Damen nudged the tip of a finger inside, his own legs feeling unsteady when it slid into his slick opening with no effort. 

He watched Laurent as it slid in to his knuckle. He was panting; he could hear it as he moved his finger back, Laurent’s thighs tightening when he moved it back in, deeper. 

Laurent’s eyelids were hooded. His lips glistened in the dim light, the tightening of his fingers tugging on Damen’s shorter curls by his nape, a sharp sting that only aided to the moment. His own arms shook minutely, the muscles in his biceps tightening as he supported Laurent’s weight with one arm, his other positioned lower where he was feeling the place where Laurent had opened himself for him.

 _So, this was premeditated_ , Damen had asked, and he saw the truth of it now, the real plan that Laurent had had in mind when he had suggested an impromptu visit to an old inn, had cloaked the night in a sort of honeyed eroticism that only he could manage. Damen thought of him in a bed, on his back, his lips pressed together to hide all sounds of what he was doing so Damen wouldn’t come in and find him with his legs spread apart, preparing himself for when he would eventually take Damen’s cock.

His own arrogance faltered, most of his body falling forward as he pushed them roughly into the wall, Laurent’s spine flattening with the change in position. Their cocks brushed against each other, and Damen felt Laurent’s sigh hit him as he buried his face into his neck, feeling mad with desire and love.

“Laurent,” Damen groaned into his skin, the full weight of Laurent in his embrace feeling like more than he deserved, the very fact that Laurent wanted it like this, with him. The idea of Laurent seeking out his own pleasure, acting on his spontaneity drove Damen past reason so that he was rocking against Laurent, some part of him already feeling like he was inside.

Their positioning brought Laurent above him, and it was with an unexpected thrill that Laurent took his face in his hands, the stubble on his face scraping against his palms as he tilted Damen’s face up to his, kissing Damen hard on the mouth. Passion flared, and it was with clumsy, fumbling hands that Damen reached out beside them, hand tapping along the stone mantel for the abandoned vial of oil.

But then Laurent was taking it from his hand, working in quick movements as he removed the stopper and tossed it to the ground, pouring a liberal amount on his hand. Damen moaned into the silent room as Laurent’s oiled hand pumped him slowly, his own hands tightening around Laurent as he moved into his tight grip, abandoned.

Eventually he changed the positioning of his hands, moving to grip Laurent’s hips so that he could lift him up, tilting his body back so his shoulders were pressed against the wall, his lower body jutting out. Their gazes met, locked, and it was with Laurent holding his neck that he finally pushed himself inside.

Damen didn’t look away, wanting Laurent to watch him as he pushed him tighter into the wall, lashes fluttering as Laurent’s body sunk down onto his cock. Damen’s body was throbbing, feeling powerful beyond words as he marveled at the way Laurent looked, flushed and disheveled with his cock straining against his stomach. Beads of cum were leaking at the tip, and Damen saw the way his own muscles strained as he tried to lift himself up, to no avail. 

“Damen, you-“ His eyes were unfocused. “You have to-“

“Yes,” Damen said, pressing forward and taking Laurent’s lips between his own. The shift caused Laurent’s thighs to spread apart to accommodate his weight, pushing Damen in at a deeper angle that had Laurent gasping.

His hips were moving. His fingers were pressing bruises into Laurent’s skin, thumbs digging into his hipbones as he hitched Laurent up higher, maneuvering his body outward so he could thrust into him better, Laurent’s legs tangled loosely around him as his head fell back, throat rolling once as Damen altered his pace.

It felt different, like this, uninhibited in a way that they only were when impatience won out, when all they managed was a stumble into their rooms before one of them was being pressed against a wall, the door barely shutting behind them before laces were coming undone. Damen felt that now, that same wild sort of fever that had him squeezing Laurent’s thighs tighter, holding them together as he drover into Laurent again, and again.

Laurent’s sounds were low, tangled, his blond hair falling into his eyes as he clung to Damen’s arms, nails biting into him. Each thrust of Damen’s body had Laurent’s back grating against the wall, and Damen’s mind lit up with all the scrapes and marks that he would find later, all the spots for him to kiss and soothe with oiled hands.

Laurent was vulnerable to him like this, immobile so that he couldn’t move, simply allow himself to be held in Damen’s hands and rocked into. To be arched back and lifted, an unrelenting pace that had Damen sliding him up and down his cock.

“Is this how you wanted it,” Damen said, brushing their lips together as Laurent’s mouth fell open, unintelligible as he pushed in again, harder. It had meant to come out firm, forceful, but all he managed was a breathless question as Laurent pushed a hand into his hair, his mouth moving like he was muttering words of pleasure that came out as gentle sighs and gasps.

Damen liked when Laurent took control. He liked when he pushed him down in bed, when he climbed on top of him and held Damen’s hands away, riding Damen slowly as he chased his own release. And while that was heady in its own way, there was something about holding Laurent in place and controlling the pace they set, leaving Laurent with nothing to do but murmur Damen’s name as he took it.

He could feel that Laurent was close, in the trembled of his thighs around him, in the way his breath began to falter in his ear. Damen wanted to see him lose his mind to it, to dissolve in Damen’s arms as Damen found his own release inside him.

“You feel-“ Damen’s heart was pounding, the sounds of their bodies impacting the walls too much. “I want-“

 _“Damen,”_ Laurent said, the curled fingers he had in Damen’s hair letting go as his body trembled, his head falling onto Damen’s shoulder as he shuddered against him.

Damen was lost to it after that, wanting nothing more than to collapse into bed with Laurent and kiss him for long, unhurried intervals of time. He focused on the press of Laurent’s face against his skin, Laurent’s breathing shallow and uneven as Damen finally came, finishing inside Laurent with a deep, gutted moan.

He was boneless after that, sluggish like he always was after sex. He felt as if his pleasure had drained every ounce of energy out of him, and he only realized that his entire body was slumped forward when he began to register the sound of Laurent’s laughter. 

Damen lifted his head. His mind felt heavy like lead, but the lethargic feeling quickly dispensed as he saw the brightness in Laurent’s drowsy looking eyes, his poorly repressed smile. 

“What?” Damen said, and Laurent let out another short breath of laughter. He glanced down, and the clenching of his legs had Damen grabbing him, reflexively. 

“Do you plan on letting me stand?” Laurent asked. 

Damen flushed, and he made sure to keep his hold on Laurent’s sides gentle as he pulled himself out, Laurent’s legs disentangling from where they had been wound around him. He expected his step to falter, but Laurent opted to avoid that possibility altogether by leaning back against the wall in a way that made him look wrung out, young in a roguish way.

Breathing was still a little difficult, Damen’s body still feeling pleasantly warm. He leaned his body beside Laurent’s in a similar stance, letting out a long rush of air. They looked at each other, neither of them saying a word as they came back to themselves in their own ways. The spilled vial of oil and their discarded clothing were at their feet, crumbled together in a heap. 

Their fingers brushed, and it was Laurent who smiled first.

**Author's Note:**

> [ @laurent-ofvere](http://laurent-ofvere.tumblr.com)   
> 


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